


Professor Collins AU

by Fishtail820



Category: Supernatural
Genre: College, F/M, Taboo, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 12:54:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10536873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishtail820/pseuds/Fishtail820
Summary: Student is in college and shows up late for class one day only to realize her class has a substitute teacher named Professor Collins. She is instantly infatuated with not only his looks, but his heart.**Written by me****Not based on a true story*****Inspired by Misha's seminar at Washington University***





	1. Chapter 1

**_Your POV:_ **

I was running late for class again. I had to stay late at the diner once again because our third shift got bombarded by dozens of drunk college students for Thursday After Class, also known as TAC. 

I didn't make it home until 1AM. I was supposed to be out at 9PM. This is my life, forever catching up with everything. I had to stay up even later to work on a thesis for Professor Huey's English class. It has been the bane of my existence, and has taken the last ounce of any mental energy I had left, which is why I was running late on the day it was due. 

It was a smaller lecture class so sneaking in wasn't an option, but I had to do it if I wanted to receive a decent grade on it. As quietly as I could, I opened the door and walked in the small crack I opened for myself. 

Without looking towards the front, I quickly went to my desk with my eyes lowered as I sat down in my seat. I noticed the professor had stopped talking, which was when I finally looked up and seen that it wasn't him, but a handsome, younger man with crystalline blue eyes staring back at me, a small smile playing on the edge of his lips. His voice is what broke you out of the trance you seemed to have found yourself in.

"Ms. (Reader's Last Name), I presume?" 

"Yes, sorry I'm late." I shyly say out loud.

"No problem, we were just talking about Professor Huey's absence.

As I was saying class, Professor Huey is said to be absent for a few days due to his health, so I will be taking over for the time being."

It was written on the board that his name was Professor Collins. He looked to be only a few years older than I, and I couldn't get past how handsome he actually looked in a three-piece navy suit.  
It was going to be a long few days in Professor Huey's absence, I sighed.

I listened to this new substitute as he spoke of his experiences with similar writing courses, and gave us a little background on his upbringing.  
He grew up with a single mom who he declares single-handedly is his hero for who he is today.  
He spoke with kindness, not just in his words, but his voice. It was mesmerizing, and before I knew it the class was over, and I was actually sad that it was. 

It took a few minutes to gather my things causing me to be the last one left in class. Professor Collins was leaning against the desk in his waistcoat, his blazer long since forgotten on the back of the chair, waving at the students leaving. 

I walked up to him to turn in my thesis, kind of nervous with the temporary one on one status.

"Professor Collins, I'm sorry I interrupted the beginning of your first day," I say as a slight blush crept across my freckled skin.

"It's okay, Y/N. I understand things happen." He responded with a warm smile. 

"I ended up working 4 hours later than I was supposed to causing me to stay up a little longer finishing the thesis and I overslept." I started rambling, I felt like I needed to explain myself to him for whatever reason.

He brought his arm up and rested his hand on my shoulder, "Truly, it's alright. I've been there." 

"Okay, thank you. I'll try to not let it happen again." I say once again just before I practically run out of the classroom after I dropped off my paper. 

**_Professor's POV:_**

I had already substituted for high school classes several times and a college class once before. Usually students liked my attitude and took to me right away, so today shouldn't be an issue. It was just another day. 

I was giving Professor Huey's class an introduction when someone opened the classroom door and snuck in. I could see she had long, wavy brunette hair, but she kept her face down. I already knew it must have been the missing student from taking attendance earlier seeing as she was the only one missing. 

I waited until she seated herself and looked up to finish my introduction. But, when she looked up I wasn't expecting what I saw. I was looking into the most beautiful green, almond shaped eyes surrounded by a bed of freckles on her face. She also was staring at me, but I couldn't help to not notice her lips, which were lush, parted slightly, until I witnessed her bite her bottom lip. I had to clear my throat to shake the thoughts that wanted to cloud my judgement. _You're a teacher, she's a student. Get a hold of yourself._

"Ms. (Reader's Last Name), I presume?" I ask.

"Yes, sorry I'm late." She responded with a hint of embarrassment laced in her voice, which was another thing that took me by surprise. Her voice, it had deep undertones for someone so small, almost sultry. 

Again, it took effort to drag myself from the curiosity I felt; I kept feeling drawn to her somehow. 

I quickly responded in a nonchalant way. I didn't really care if students were late. They were the ones who paid for it. I remember the days of pulling an all-nighter.

The rest of the class period went by quickly while I gave bits of who I was and my background, however, I found myself having to refrain from my eyes lingering in one specific spot, especially when I could feel her eyes boring into me. 

The class session was over and Y/N was the last to leave.  
I watched her as she walked up to me to turn in her paper. She had a slim body, with surprisingly a decent rack for such a small person, but again, it was her face that held my attention. 

"Professor Collins, I'm sorry I interrupted the beginning of your first day," She apologizes to me. Curiously, her face flushed as she said it, and she went on giving her explanation as to why. Whether it was embarrassment or she like many others grew nervous around me because of my looks, I wanted to assuage her fears once more. 

Without much thought I rested my arm on her shoulder as I responded, "Truly, it's alright. I've been there." 

"Okay, thank you. I'll try to not let it happen again." She says to me before dropping the paper in the drop box and rushing out of the room.

_Get a grip, Misha. This isn't the first attractive girl you've seen in the college setting._

I couldn't even hazard a guess on how old she was. She could be anywhere from 18-28. Either way, it was going to be a long couple of days. 

**_Your POV:_ **

I rushed out of my English class, gulping for air as I finally made my way to the hallway. I couldn't fathom my reaction, I've had other attractive substitutes for other classes before and never really cared, but this was different. Maybe it was the kindness in his voice, the endless blue of his eyes, or the smile that made you couldn't help but smile in return, he affected me. 

I only had one other class to go to today and thankfully I didn't have to work tonight either. I pushed away the thoughts of Professor Collins as I made my way to my art class, my favorite class. 

Today, Professor Bellvins let us draw whatever we wanted for our morning exercise, and I chose to draw eyes. Eyes that I kept seeing piercing into me, orbs that were like endless oceans in depth in the Caribbean. The exercises were meant to be quick without much detail, but I drew as quickly as I could with as much detail I could remember. Drawing his eyes wouldn't give him away, but I would know they were his after I added some blue hues from my colored pencils. 

"Interesting exercise choice, Y/N," Professor Bellvins commented as he walked near my desk.

"I have seen them recently and wanted to draw them," I responded, trying to keep it simple.

"Understandable. If these are any likeness, I can see why," he responded.

My face instantly blushed. _If only he knew._

The class proceeded as always, we get a new assignment and spend the next four days on it. Only this time, I had to do it outside of the class. We had to draw the view from our favorite spot on campus, which I instantly knew it would be from pressed up against a tree overlooking the Quad. 

I planned on getting to work on it as soon as class was over, as well as starting the new assignment for English; a short essay on what writing meant to me. 

Class ended and I gathered the supplies I'd need to layout the first base of the scene for the project. 

I made my way to my favorite spot, it was a sunny day in June and with that, I could easily find it occupied. As I got closer I could see from where I was that nobody was there yet, naturally I picked up the pace to claim it.

I sat down and spread out the art supplies I would need, and leaned against the tree as I began to sketch. 

Everyone was rushing past me, off to class somewhere or running late for a job. It was my favorite spot because the tree had a weave at its base that formed perfectly to my body, in addition to it facing the library. 

I was adding some minor details when I looked up and see Professor Collins standing just off the sidewalk talking on his phone.

_Aww.... Come on. Just when I wasn't thinking about him, here he is._

With my pencil between my teeth, I studied his profile for a minute before hastily deciding to sketch it as quick as I could. I took out my drawing pad and drew an outline of his profile, still standing there on the phone unaware he now had an audience. 

I filled in the areas of his attire, still in his three-piece navy suit that was slightly form-fitted in such a way I could tell he had broad shoulders and nicely formed quadriceps. His jaw was angular, strong and not lacking in masculinity, but I focused more on the stubble that was poking through his sun-kissed skin. I wondered if it felt like sand paper against ones skin or if it was something altogether pleasurable, like a caress from different material. 

I hadn't realized that I was focusing so much so that when I made it to his eyes again they were looking straight at me.

_Shit. Shit. This is embarrassing. What do I do?_

__

I quickly lowered my head to make it appear like I wasn't at all zeroed in on him for the last ten minutes, but when I looked back up he was on his way over to me.

I closed my sketchbook and picked up my current art project, trying to maintain some form of calmness before he reached me. 

"Hello again, Y/N." He said, politely.

"Hello, Professor," I replied, looking back up to see him smiling down at me.

"Working on anything special?" He asks curiously.

"Just an art project. Wanted to take a small break, and was working on something personal rather, now back at it." I tried to explain without so much detail. I feel myself wanting to be honest to this man; it was like a magnetic pull.

"Anything you care to share? Art fascinates me, not much of an artist myself," he inquires. 

"Umm...sure. Don't feel weird, please. I was drawing you just before." I state, obviously embarrassed by my omission, but feel better for it. 

"Oh, well, now I'm even more curious." He drops down next to me, and sits pretzel style, waiting for me to show him. 

I pull open my personal sketch pad and show him my work of his profile. I watch his reaction as he takes in the lines I've drawn, the lines that created him on paper.

"This is really good, you did it so quickly and thoroughly," he says thoughtfully. 

"I'm sorry. I feel like I invaded your privacy." I respond to his admiration. 

"Oh, it doesn't bother me. I was on the phone with my mom. She was asking how my day went." He stated as a matter of fact. 

"You talk to your mom often? By the sound of it, she seems to be an admirable woman." He smiles at me.

"She is. She's an amazing person." I could hear the adoration in his voice.

I flip to the front of my sketch pad and pass it over to him.  
"You're more than welcome to look at the rest." 

He took hold of the sketch pad and flipped through the pages, eyes alit with a glow of wonder. 

"You truly have a gift. Are you in the art program here?" He hands the sketch pad back to me as he asks his question.

"Yes, with a minor in Business, as I want to have my own business someday and sell my own and other local artists' inventory. English is not my strong suit, however. I love writing, but grammar or correct punctuation is the death of me." It was easy talking to him to the point where I could easily forget he was actually a teacher. 

He laughed at my remark.

"English was my major, with minors in History and Business. My mother was an English Literature teacher in high school; naturally I should follow somewhat in her footsteps." 

"Are you new here, then? I don't remember ever seeing you around, and I'm a local here." I wondered out loud.

"No, I am fairly new here. I'm originally from Boston, moved to L.A. for a few years and found my way back to this side of the states. It's a different world than the west coast," he replied.

"I can imagine. So, no wife or kids either, I presume?" Obviously, I was curious. 

"No. I was too busy with school and haven't really met the right person yet, what about you? Is it too forward to ask about a significant other?" He tilts his head to the side as if wondering whether this was actually appropriate to ask of a student. It probably wasn't, but I didn't mind.

"Not at all, pretty much same reasoning, as well. Plus, I feel too old for these college students sometimes. They're ready to go out and party, whereas I'd much rather sit at home and read a book." I give him a small smile at the little incites to the kind of person I was.

"Maturity can be attractive, as long as you also know how to have fun," he gives me a little wink causing me to laugh.

"I'm adventurous, and like to explore and can have fun sober. Problem is a lot of people around here don't." I give him a small smirk. 

"Ah, yes that could create a problem." He laughs at the predicament, but continues, "Any way, thank you for sharing your art work. I look forward to seeing more of it someday. I better let you get back to your project," he states as he gets up from where we were seated. 

"Thank you for listening, Professor." I smile at him.

"Outside of the classroom, Misha is fine." He corrects me.

"Misha..." I test the name out. It was different, but for whatever reason suited him.

"Yes, Misha." He repeats and grins at me, then turns around and walks on the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

**_Professor POV:_ **

It took a lot for me to get up and walk away. Any compunction began to leave my subconscious the longer I spent talking to Y/N, when it should be the opposite. 

The only reason I walked over to her was because I noticed her looking and sketching at the same time, causing me to wonder if she was sketching me.

She seemed smart, knew what she wanted, and had similar ideals as I did. I've heard of Professor's nonchalantly hanging out with students outside of class, it was just definitely frowned upon if anything more happens, which would lead to termination. 

We could be friends after I was done substituting her class, she was off limits otherwise. She was a regal beauty, but I noticed guys didn't look at her that way, maybe because I was older I could look past all the superficial things and see her for herself.

I needed to go look over the thesis papers that were turned in and push aside any other provoking thoughts of Y/N, which was another reason I left. 

**_Your POV:_ **

I watched him as he left, his fragrance lingering in the air around me making me yearn for more time. It was the most normal conversation I've had with someone here and it's someone that I'm not even really supposed to, but we weren't doing anything off limits, not really. Subconsciously, I knew better.

I went home after working two hours on the art project, just to sit on the couch and start on the English essay. 

_What does writing mean to me?_

It was a way to express, like art was to me, only a different form of expression. You're using lines, shapes, or colors to create a picture in words. Writing is a memory, a thought, a fantasy, an experience. It says what we cannot say, or can clarify what we do when even our own thoughts aren't making any sense. Writing doesn't have to make sense, not really, but it helps if it does. Just one letter can make you feel powerful or even a whole group can make you feel small. Writing is an extension of the writer. If I were to be described by what I've written just now, it would show what exactly? I'm bad at grammar, my thoughts are jumbled, and writing to me is hard to articulate because it's different for everyone.

Honestly, I didn't even know how to describe what I've written in my essay. I wonder what Professor Collins will think of it.I sit there staring at the jumble of words typed out before me, wondering about the blue eyes that will read it later. I've seen teachers hang out with students before, especially here in a small town, it was commonplace. Would I be able to separate my newfound feelings? He did seem like someone who could be a good friend; caring, kind, generous with words.

Mulling it over didn't solve anything. It wasn't like I could just say, 'Hey, wanna hang out some time?' It would have to be by chance. I guess we'll see. I cleaned up my apartment after I saved the draft on my essay, and started cooking dinner.

I lived alone because I preferred it that way. I worked my ass off to afford the things I had, I was brought up that way. After dinner was done I curled up on the couch and caught up on my shows that I've missed as I ate. I turned into bed early since I had to work in the morning. Some of my girlfriends wanted me to go out to the bar after my shift tomorrow, as well. Might as well catch up on sleep now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader goes out with her friends, but finds trouble instead. Will school policies keep her from making a certain decision?

**_Your POV:_**

It was Saturday; I woke refreshed and ready to take on the day. I was even able to squeeze in some breakfast before I headed into work. 

The morning shift was always busy with hungover college students or the elderly on the weekends. It was fast-paced and we never had a moment to stop until after the noon rush, which was my favorite kind of shift to make the day go by fast.

Before I knew it I was on my way home to get into my workout gear and head to the gym before I got ready to go out for the night. I tried to work out as much as I could, as long as it never hindered my schoolwork. Today, I ran 4 miles and worked on my shoulders and abs beforehand. I had so much adrenaline, which could indefinitely help for a late night ahead.

Afterwards, I made my way home, once again, showered and picked out my bar clothes. I didn't have much since I never went out, so I just settled for a little black dress with some open-toed booties. I had an hour before we were to all meet up, so I dried my hair and curled it in loose waves, letting it fall over my shoulders. I actually put makeup on, creating a semi-smoky effect since I'm not highly experienced when it came to make up.

By the time I was ready, I ate some of my leftovers, then quickly brushed my teeth and spritzed some perfume before heading out the door.

We were meeting at the well-known college bar, Shooters, where TAC usually takes place. I liked it every once in a while with their cheap drinks, dancing, and pool tables. 

It was around 9:30PM and the bar was just starting to pick up. I found my small group of girls at a high top waving me over to join them.

"Hey, Y/N! You came!" Ashley squealed.

"I said I was," I laughed.

"Yes, but that's not always a yes when it comes to you," she teased me.

"I like the bar scene once in a while, this is my once in a while," I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Oh, real mature." She giggled. 

"So, how was work this morning?" Brittany chimed in.

"Same old shit, different day," I responded.

"Sounds like it's time for shots!" Ashley shouted.

Begrudgingly, I follow her up to the bar to bring back the three shots for them. Then, time passed with more shots and drinks consumed, and then we were all out on the dance floor. I was feeling slightly inebriated by this point. I'm normally shy, but after a few drinks, I think I can dance when I really can't. 

At the start of another song, I felt I guy get behind me and start dancing. It wasn't uncommon, especially in a college town. I danced against him, moving to the music until he whispered in my ear.

"I thought you'd be home curled up on the couch reading a book?" A familiar voice said.

I turned back in surprise to see it was Professor Collins, or Misha, no less, in a black Henley and baseball cap, smiling back at me.

This. We aren't supposed to be doing this. But, he was such a good dancer. We hadn't stopped even during my apparent surprise, and I liked the way he felt moving behind me. I didn't say anything, but let him put his hands on my hips as we grinded to the song that was playing. I don't know if it was the alcohol or the feeling of not getting him out of my head, but I wanted more, more than I was supposed to.

I turned around mid-song, and put my arms around him, with one leg in between his, the other on the outside. I had beads of sweat dripping down the side of my face and down my chest, and noticed he had some on his neck. His blue eyes that were now taken over by dilated pupils never left me, I was the center of his attention. It was hedonistic and caused me to bold. 

I leaned up to his ear, "You should meet me in the unisex bathroom. Knock twice," I winked at him as I dropped my arms and walked off towards the restrooms. 

_I just propositioned a teacher. What am I doing?_

Each step I took my confidence began to falter. 

_What if he doesn't come? What if he does? What exactly am I propositioning?_

I made it to the bathroom, found it unused and locked the door. I looked at myself in the mirror. My makeup was still intact, my hair was losing its curls from the sweat, but all in all I still looked decent. 

Two knocks on the door broke my thoughts, the alcohol slowly wearing off, and the nerves were setting in.

I took a deep breath and cracked open the door to see him standing there and it all evaporated. I wanted him; I've wanted him the moment I laid eyes on him. I pulled him in by his shirt and quickly shut the door before anyone could see, surprising even myself at my own strength. 

"Hi," I said, not sure what else to say.

"Hi," he responded, moving a little closer to me.

"I..." I started, what do I say? If anyone found out he could lose his job. I wasn't worth that.

"I've wanted you the moment you tried to sneak into that classroom," Misha omitted. 

He wanted me as much as I wanted him, it was like our bodies moved on their own volition, that we both merged together, our lips finding the others, my hands knocking off his hat and curling in his hair, he pushed us back against the wall and lifted my legs around his waist, smoothing his lips all over mine, as well as my neck and my shoulder causing a small moan to escape.

I could feel the heat coming off him from between my legs, the only barrier being my underwear and his clothes. I dropped my hand down to unbuckle his belt between my legs, all the while his lips never leaving mine. 

I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down his zipper, which was when we stopped kissing. He looked down at me and I up at him, both of us with kiss bruised lips. 

"Condom?" I asked, breathlessly.

"Back left pocket, in my wallet." He responded, thick with arousal.

I maneuvered my arm to his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and grabbed the condom, dropping the wallet in return. I ripped the foil with my teeth and pulled it out with my free arm. There was a waist height shelf in the restroom we were in, both only noticing it just now. He carried me over to it and gently set me down before taking the condom in his hands.

"Are you sure? We don't have to do this if you don't want to." He states.

"I'm sure. Are you sure you want this?" I ask, hoping he won't say no. I was yearning for him, here and now.

"Yes," he says finally after a beat. He pulls out his erection, which was hardened by his arousal, and rolled the condom over his length.

I leaned back on my hands and wrapped my legs around him once more, leaving space enough for him to push aside my thong and enter me. He did so, and slid past my folds and pushed in until he was full tilt; the restroom echoed both our moans from our joining.

I squeezed my legs around his frame as he leaned down and meld our lips together, once more.  
It was finally happening, his thrusts each time reminding me of the fact that this is what I've wanted; this is why I couldn't get him out of my head. He then lifted me off the shelf and slid me up and down his length that was wet from my own arousal. 

It had been ages since I had sex and it wasn't going to take long for me to reach my release.

"Harder Misha, I'm close," I moaned out, feeling my insides tightening with each new thrust. He picked up the speed after he pushed me back against the wall, thrusting into me faster and faster before I closed my eyes and cried out in ecstasy, my orgasm ripping through me, shaking my core against him, enabling him to find his own release, with a groan, I felt him fill the condom inside me.

With true strength we stayed like that for a matter of minutes, before he pulled out of me and dropped me back down to my feet.

As he discarded the soiled condom, I gathered my composure and took stock in what truly just happened. 

_I just had sex with my teacher._

I was...horrified at myself, mainly because I wanted to do it again. I must not be thinking clearly, he could lose his job because of me. 

"Y/N, stop overthinking it. This is not your fault. I..." He began, then walked over to me and picked up my hand, "I should know better." He looked down.

"Misha, I knew what I was getting into, yet I pursued it. What it could cost you, I wasn't thinking. It was the most selfish thing I could have done, and the bad part of it is..." I look down at our intertwined fingers, "I want to do it again and again, and even knowingly what this could do." Again, I was honest with him. 

"Then, I am just as guilty." I looked up at him, he looking at me.

"Then, what do we do?" I ask.

I watched as Misha thought about what I was asking.

"When do you graduate?" Misha asked, his expression somewhat pained.

"Technically, December. But I'm done after these summer classes." I respond, trying to articulate why his question was relevant and why his eyes looked a little sad.

Then, it hit me. We would have to wait until then if we wanted to do this the right way.

"You would wait?" I ask, hopeful yet saddened by the thought.

"Maybe we can take the time to get to know each other over the summer, at least until you're done with classes. Rather than the alternative and possibly getting found out." He said. 

It was logical, but was going to be unbearably hard. 

"Okay," I started, "But, if this is the last time for a while then," I grabbed his shirt and brought him towards me and kisses him one last time. I felt his fingers dig into my hair, emptying all of the feelings of what the next few months was going to cost us to stay apart. 

Then, we separated. He bent over to pick up his hat and wallet, while I checked in the mirror at my appearance, tears threatening to spill over. 

"I will see you on Monday," I say, my voice quivering.

"See you Monday," he responds before I unlock the door and leave him with a despondent look.

I made it back to the table with the girls, I was probably gone a good 20 to 25 minutes, so they were probably worried. 

"Hey!!! There you are! Where'd you go? You looked like you were having fun with that guy on the dance floor before!" Ashley exclaimed.

"We were having fun, but I really had to pee and there was inevitably a line." I respond, trying to not let the solemnity seep through my voice. It was time for me to get going home either way. I just wanted a shower and curl up on my couch and watch a comedy.

"Well, it's time for me to head home, ladies." They both booed my words. I didn't watch where Misha went after I left the restroom, it was better left alone. 

"Are you okay to drive?" Brittany asked, concerned.

"Yes, ma'am. I wouldn't otherwise. Promise." I paid cash for every transaction so I didn't have a tab. I got up and gave them hugs before heading out to my car. When I got inside of it was when I finally let go. I don't even know why I was so frustrated. I barely knew the guy, maybe it was because it was the instant chemistry and it was someone that was off limits. I didn't know, or understand it.

I blew out a breath. _Eight weeks._ Eight weeks of waiting isn't so bad if it is for the person you may spend forever with, _right?_. I calmed myself down enough to drive home and contemplate what I just did. _Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may add his POV later on. Sorry it has taken so long!


End file.
